It’s said that every theater is inhab-
ited by at least one ghost, and contrary to
legends propagated by Halloween, these
ghosts do not like the dark. Thus, when the
curtain falls and a theater’s house empties,
an employee will leave a light — a ghost
light — to burn onstage until the performers
return. Across the world, ghost lights have
remained on and untouched for months. But
the lives of performers continue offstage,
each day adding pressure to find perfor-
mance spaces on digital platforms. What
happens when the ghost lights keep burning
and we’re left with a stage wholly mediated
by posts, shares, comments and likes?
In a utopian alternate reality of a world
without coronavirus, this week would
have been quite historic for American
Ballet Theater. Dancers Misty Copeland
and Calvin Royal III were scheduled to
become the first black artists at ABT
to headline the archetypal love story
“Romeo and Juliet” together. The casting
would have been the newest in the ballet
world’s glacially slow-moving progress
toward a more diverse stage. Copeland
recently told ABT Trustee Emerita Susan
Fales-Hill that when social distancing
necessities dissipate, the performance
will have the potential to shift an audi-
ence’s perspective on black love, elabo-
rating that “I just think it’s going to blow
people’s minds just by seeing two brown
bodies in this romantic, passionate young
love that has nothing to do with the color
of our skin.”
The specialness of this potential should
not be minimized — quite frankly, the
mere fact that ABT has two black danc-
ers high enough in its ranks to cast such
major roles makes the company far ahead
of many others. In 2015, Copeland became
the first ever black female principal danc-
er at any major international company and
since then, the success stories have been
few and far between.
Ballet’s history is fraught with racial
prejudice. For generations, the art form
was emblematic of a white aristocracy
that firmly denied access to audiences and
dancers of color. It began in the courts of
Italy and was later codified by King Louis
XIV of France in the 17th century. These
blue-blooded beginnings helped support
an aura of elitism that continues to hinder
ballet’s potential for growth from racial
and socioeconomic standpoints. Today,
ballet’s lack of diversity is fed by ugly ste-
reotypes of black artists’ supposed lack of
grace, and its expensive point of entry can
make it hard for new talent to break these
boundaries — one estimate projected that
a dancer-in-training will need at least
$100,000 before reaching the possibil-
ity of a professional audition. This reality
creates a world that continues to exclude
and oppress dancers of color.
This oppression is currently backlit by a
country enveloped by protests against the
recent murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud
Arbery and Breonna Taylor. Activists and
Instagram users alike continue to use
these crimes as platforms to talk about
the importance of fighting racial injus-
tice at every level — ballet may be far
removed from police brutality, but the art
form remains at the center of many sys-
tems of white privilege that also enable
the perpetuation of racism in America
and beyond. The layers of that privilege
run far deeper than just casting, but the
stage is almost always where choreogra-
phers, teachers and directors get their
start. Changing the racial makeup of a
I sat in our firewood-scented Wisconsin cabin
and stared at a Zoom video conference call meant
to resemble my friend Stephany’s 19th birthday
party. College friends, childhood friends, room-
mates and classmates were fit awkwardly together
like puzzle pieces on my computer screen, patient-
ly awaiting the birthday girl’s arrival. We made
conversation and exchanged niceties like business
colleagues might do, offering a “what’s everyone
been up to?” when the silence grew to be par-
ticularly uncomfortable. Finally, Stephany’s sweet
face entered the Zoom call and we launched into a
timidly performed rendition of “Happy Birthday,”
single voices freezing here and there as Zoom’s lag
emphasized the inherently awkward nature of the
festivity.
Like what many others in Generation Z, more
recently labeled as “Generation Zoom,” have expe-
rienced, Steph’s birthday party was the umpteenth
Zoom event I had attended since first submit-
ting to self-quarantine in mid-March. Virtual cast
reunions, get-togethers and club meetings meant
that Zoom has become my new and sole place for
social gathering. With other Gen Zers frequenting
the platform to participate in religious services,
movie viewings, club parties and even drinking
games, college students have fully immersed them-
selves in this new form of digital socialization.
Seemingly overnight, self-proclaimed “quar-
anteens” traded in sweaty bar crawls and packed
house parties for Zoom links and Facebook events.
Throughout the month of March, a new genre
of Zoom-centered Facebook groups including
one called “Zoom Hangouts for Self Quranteens”
introduced such events like “4/20 on ZOOM”
and “Zoom Bingo” to those searching for con-
nection while quarantined. One Facebook event
called “How many ppl can we get in a zoom call in
a week” appealed to those lonely, socially starved
Gen Zers searching for a place to meet new peo-
ple, play drinking games and commiserate over
COVID-19.
But on March 25, this desperate pursuit of
human connection proved to extend beyond
Zoom Bingo nights and virtual parties when stu-
dents flocked to an online dating website called
thezoomuniversity.com to find love. Co-founded
by USC graduates Leor Massachi and Daniel
Newman, the initial idea behind the website was
to organize video double dates to combat the “...
unprecedented levels of loneliness” Newman and
Massachi knew college students were experienc-
ing during quarantine. After going viral on TikTok,
the website attracted tens of thousands of users
hailing from colleges all over the country. Soon,
the website servers crashed and Massachi and
Newman scrambled to meet the romantic needs
of thousands of quarantined students.
7
Thursday, June 4, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com ARTS
On whiteness in ballet
Dating via
video chat
Read more at michigandaily.com
ZOE PHILLIPS
Daily Arts Writer
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ballet’s performance thus has the long-
term potential to shape the entire indus-
try going forward.
Misty Copeland is perhaps the loudest
voice in this fight today — even before her
official promotion, Copeland’s status as
a powerful black ballerina changed the
landscape of ballet audiences. In 2014, she
became a spokesperson for Under Armour
and broke out of ballet’s insular bubble in
a way that few dancers ever have. Cope-
land pushed the ballet community to see
the importance of growth and became the
face of ballet’s progressive fans. Never-
theless, she is not the only voice out there:
ABT’s Erica Lal and Calvin Royal III,
Houston Ballet’s Harper Watters, Wash-
ington Ballet’s Nardia Boodoo and Dance
Theatre of Harlem’s Daphne Lee are all
beautiful voices to listen to. Lee recently
told her followers, “We could cripple this
country. We could also elevate it in ways
we haven’t done before.”
Copeland and Royal III’s performance
of “Romeo and Juliet” would have been
special for its elevation of ballet’s pos-
sibilities: They were both eager to show
the world a new face on an old story. This
excitement is melancholic in context
of the uncertain future of live perfor-
mance, but both express confidence that
this groundbreaking show will happen
one day. Their conviction is an optimistic
reflection of how far the ballet world has
come, yet the mere necessity of delaying
such a milestone in 2020, especially this
week, underscores how much further it
needs to go.
In the wake of these events, ballet com-
panies are also taking stances — Lincoln
Center cancelled this week’s scheduled
live streams in honor of the Blackout
Tuesday media initiative under the grow-
ing
hashtag
#TheShowMustBePaused.
Last Sunday, ABT joined the also-growing
#BalletRelevesForBlackLives initiative to
address the racism lingering in the ballet
industry. A réleve is a step in which the
dancer pulls their body up onto the ball
of their foot or the top of the pointe shoe.
The simple yet powerful step is the back-
bone of many of ballet’s most important
movements. In essence, these companies
are pledging to step up, to grow and to lift
their world into a more racially equitable
tomorrow.
The sentiment is quite beautiful: By
hiring more black dancers, those dancers
then have the opportunities to grow into
choreographers, teachers and directors.
The pledge has the potential to change
the future of this art form, but only if
these companies follow through on their
words. Just like a réleve itself, change
requires strength that comes from long
stretches of active perseverance — words
and hashtags are only the trailhead of a
steep road of effort. Also like a réleve, that
road needs to become the backbone of this
industry if real change is to be enacted.
Black lives and black dancers must matter
today, tomorrow and forever to come.
GRACE TUCKER
Daily Arts Writer
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